Street (Urban Fiction)

Chapter Thirty Four

We were taking the bus to Trey's place since he obviously couldnt pick us up. Chris couldn't keep the smile off his face the entire way there; he kept saying he was going to find a way to record it so he could one day show Trey's kids the kind of teen he was.

The bus was packed. All the seats were filled and people were standing like packed sardines. Despite that fact, the driver kept letting people on. You would've thought he was getting paid commission.

Every stop sent me flying into the person in front of me, even though I was holding onto the pole tightly. When my body collided with the man for the fifth time, he kissed his teeth and snapped his head in my direction.

Chris snaked his arm around me and pulled me closer to him when he saw the man's facial expression.

"Yeah, you better hold on to her ass," he muttered.

"Or what, nigga?" Chris shot back with a growl.

I placed my hand on his, silently urging him to calm down. The man kissed his teeth and turned back around.

"Better turn yo' ass around. Don't get fucked up, b. I'm from Queens, nigga!" He slapped his chest with his free hand for emphasis.

I rolled my eyes; niggas from New York were always reminding people what borough they were from. I groaned as my eyes darted around; a few curious eyes were cast in our direction and I honestly hated an audience.

"Chris," I started in a hushed, warning tone.

"Naw man, I'm fuckin' tight now. Talkin' like he was gon' do some shit if you bumped into him again. He don't know I'm 730."

I sighed, then turned to face him. "I don't even know what 730 is supposed to mean, but I do know you need to bring it down three more notches." I clicked my tongue three times and demonstrated the different notches with my hand.

He chuckled lightly, his eyes crinkling as he did, then tucked a fly away piece of my hair back.

"If he says somethin' again--"

"Then you can beat his ass, Chris."

He beamed at me before leaning in for a chaste kiss. I scrunched up my nose in mock disgust and cocked my head to the side.

"Eww, Chris. I hate PDA."

"Too bad," he replied, flicking my nose.

"Don't flick my nose."

"Yeah?" He quirked a brow.

"Yeah."

"Say it wi'chya chest."

I laughed, then rolled my eyes. I wasn't about to play with him. He pulled the yellow cord, notifying the driver that we wanted to get off at the next stop. When we got to Trey's house the door was locked, but Chris said he could get in through one of the windows.

After the countless times he'd entered my room through my window, I didn't doubt that he could. I stood outside for about two minutes before Chris opened the front door for me. Let me find out he used to be in New York doing home invasions.

None of the lights in the house were on. There weren't any sounds either; no tv, running water, or footsteps. Nothing.

When we entered his room, we found Trey on his bed casket ready. He wore a three piece black suit with a sky blue tie and black dress shoes. His eyes were closed and his hands layed flat on his chest. The corners of my lips immediately lifted as I took him in.

"You think he's dead?" I asked Chris.

He shrugged. "Shit, let's find out. Yo," he shouted, patting the side of Trey's face.